The bloody mémoire saga has come to an end.
Exactly a year ago, I was tentatively deciding on a subject with Prof. M. exactly a day ago I was presenting the fruits of my hard labour to a jury of two.
My mémoire subject: "French and British Parliamentarians in the 2004-2009 European Parliament: a comparative approach" has been my obsession and activity for the past five months or so, and my full time round the clock activity for the last two. It was given in on Tuesday 19th with considerable relief and fear that it is shit.
I didn't really prepare yesterday's oral soutenance, couldn't face reading the bloody mémoire again or researching the billion questions that they could catch me on. Turns out I didn't need to.
I went in, they were there. It was all very formal, in the classroom I have been working in for two years, the "European room", that boasts a couple of out- of -date EU maps and a couple of limp flags. I was formally dressed, M. was in usual jeans and green shirt, Mme B. (my constitutional law teacher and other member of the jury) was wearing bright red shoes, which is all I can remember about her.
What follows is twenty minutes of blur. First I talked (rather hesistantly and with wild arm gestures I think) about my subject, why it's interesting, why it's useful, how I researched it, what the problems are, what I found. They were nodding and grinning and mute. At one point I said 'Do you want me to go on?' (I don't know why), they said "no". Shit.
Instead Mme B. launched into her opinion of the bloody mémoire. "Incroyable! First time I've read a mémoire from beginning to end! Amazing analysis, very in depth, so clear, incredible standard, bla bla". As you probably know, people who wear bright red shoes can get enthusiastic, and she went crazy. "Apart from some typos and anglicisms it's great! Thesis quality! You must do a thesis". I was absolutely stunned. This is not false modesty: I wrote that mémoire in a single four-and-a-half-week block, disorganised, surrounded by photocopies, dirty plates and beer bottles, chain-smoking, living in a hovel and stressed beyond belief.
She raved on, mentioning one paragraph where I could have made a tiny distinction (University professors are fonctionnaires in France, but not civil servants in GB). Of all the crap and lack of precision present in that paper, she picked on that, which made me laugh out loud. She then ranted on more saying what a great researcher I was for a bit, my mind had disconnected from the shock.
M.'s turn. "Yeah I agree, you're great, it's great, you must do a thesis. Don't forget to add full stops at the end of your footnotes". What?? that's it? this is the most cantankerous teacher in the world (I rather like him actually), who always raves and comments and criticises. "I love your graphs, they're beautiful" he sighed, looking at the billion graphs that Microsoft Word had kindly turned out for me with a couple of clicks. Loves my graphs? They took 20 minutes. How about the gaping holes in research, the obvious lack of knowledge of the internal organisaton of the Parliament (one sad half page in the annexes), the leaps of logic?
Obviously neither had read it, only looked at the pictures.
They asked me to leave the room, which I did, trembling from shock and muttering thanks for the compliments. "Don't thank us", they snapped. Badly needed a cigarette but they told me to hang around. Within a couple of minutes they beckoned me back in and, all very formally told me stand up.
Mme B. said "Le jury ayant lu, le jury ayant vu, le jury a délibéré et vous donne la note de 18/20 avec ses félicitations unanimes". My jaw dropped. 18 is an incredible grade, unheard of I think. The best of the best, amongst whom I do not include myself, usually expect 16 or 17 after a brilliant mémoire and gruelling questions at the oral. I had given in an ok-ish paper and hardly spoken, and they were treating me as if I were a dictator's daughter in a banana republic. Are they really that desperate to get people to do a thesis?
Exactly a year ago, I was tentatively deciding on a subject with Prof. M. exactly a day ago I was presenting the fruits of my hard labour to a jury of two.
My mémoire subject: "French and British Parliamentarians in the 2004-2009 European Parliament: a comparative approach" has been my obsession and activity for the past five months or so, and my full time round the clock activity for the last two. It was given in on Tuesday 19th with considerable relief and fear that it is shit.
I didn't really prepare yesterday's oral soutenance, couldn't face reading the bloody mémoire again or researching the billion questions that they could catch me on. Turns out I didn't need to.
I went in, they were there. It was all very formal, in the classroom I have been working in for two years, the "European room", that boasts a couple of out- of -date EU maps and a couple of limp flags. I was formally dressed, M. was in usual jeans and green shirt, Mme B. (my constitutional law teacher and other member of the jury) was wearing bright red shoes, which is all I can remember about her.
What follows is twenty minutes of blur. First I talked (rather hesistantly and with wild arm gestures I think) about my subject, why it's interesting, why it's useful, how I researched it, what the problems are, what I found. They were nodding and grinning and mute. At one point I said 'Do you want me to go on?' (I don't know why), they said "no". Shit.
Instead Mme B. launched into her opinion of the bloody mémoire. "Incroyable! First time I've read a mémoire from beginning to end! Amazing analysis, very in depth, so clear, incredible standard, bla bla". As you probably know, people who wear bright red shoes can get enthusiastic, and she went crazy. "Apart from some typos and anglicisms it's great! Thesis quality! You must do a thesis". I was absolutely stunned. This is not false modesty: I wrote that mémoire in a single four-and-a-half-week block, disorganised, surrounded by photocopies, dirty plates and beer bottles, chain-smoking, living in a hovel and stressed beyond belief.
She raved on, mentioning one paragraph where I could have made a tiny distinction (University professors are fonctionnaires in France, but not civil servants in GB). Of all the crap and lack of precision present in that paper, she picked on that, which made me laugh out loud. She then ranted on more saying what a great researcher I was for a bit, my mind had disconnected from the shock.
M.'s turn. "Yeah I agree, you're great, it's great, you must do a thesis. Don't forget to add full stops at the end of your footnotes". What?? that's it? this is the most cantankerous teacher in the world (I rather like him actually), who always raves and comments and criticises. "I love your graphs, they're beautiful" he sighed, looking at the billion graphs that Microsoft Word had kindly turned out for me with a couple of clicks. Loves my graphs? They took 20 minutes. How about the gaping holes in research, the obvious lack of knowledge of the internal organisaton of the Parliament (one sad half page in the annexes), the leaps of logic?
Obviously neither had read it, only looked at the pictures.
They asked me to leave the room, which I did, trembling from shock and muttering thanks for the compliments. "Don't thank us", they snapped. Badly needed a cigarette but they told me to hang around. Within a couple of minutes they beckoned me back in and, all very formally told me stand up.
Mme B. said "Le jury ayant lu, le jury ayant vu, le jury a délibéré et vous donne la note de 18/20 avec ses félicitations unanimes". My jaw dropped. 18 is an incredible grade, unheard of I think. The best of the best, amongst whom I do not include myself, usually expect 16 or 17 after a brilliant mémoire and gruelling questions at the oral. I had given in an ok-ish paper and hardly spoken, and they were treating me as if I were a dictator's daughter in a banana republic. Are they really that desperate to get people to do a thesis?
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